


Stay

by octothorpe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 17:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpe/pseuds/octothorpe
Summary: The thing about Oikawa Tooru is that he hates himself.It’s not a character trait he’s associated with, what with the obnoxious narcissism, excessive charm, and superior talent. But that’s just it.His vanity, his carefully honed reputation, his work ethic—that’s exactly what gives it away.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allostatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allostatic/gifts).



> Me: Ooohh, I wanna make a tiny 800-word one-shot for my editor!  
> (many hours and 2k words later)  
> Me: What have I done
> 
> It's rough around the edges, but I really wanted to give it before the day ended! I apologise in advance but I hope you like it hahaha. Happy birthday :)

The thing about Oikawa Tooru is that he hates himself.

It’s not a character trait he’s associated with, what with the obnoxious narcissism, excessive charm, and superior talent.

But that’s just it.

His vanity, his carefully honed reputation, his work ethic—that’s exactly what gives it away. It stems from a deep obsession with everything that he isn’t. All the times he faced a stronger opponent had him anxiously carving out parts of himself, whittling away flaws to shape himself into something that superficially satisfies the conditions of perfection: beautiful, intelligent, powerful.

For the most part, people love Oikawa for who he’s built himself to be: the Grand King of the court. He’s strong and fearless and dedicated to be the best. But unlike the interpretation of everyone else, the harsh way Oikawa treats himself isn’t a show of extreme dedication.

It’s self-destruction.

The evidence of this is only obvious to Iwaizumi Hajime: in sleepless nights Oikawa spends studying enemy formations, in long hours of training until he works himself to exhaustion, in forgetting to eat, in the deep-seated desire to be the best.

It’s self-imposed punishment for not being smart enough, not being strong enough—for not being all-powerful like Ushi-fucking-jima, or a volleyball genius like Tobio-chan. It’s punishment for not being good enough for his team, for not being good enough for himself.

When Iwaizumi looks back on his childhood, all the way back to the beginning, he remembers Oikawa as sunshine: bright, cheerful, shining with potential, and insufferable. His looks and his talent pushed him to the top of their microcosmic hierarchy, winning the favour of his coaches, the admiration of his teammates, and the devotion of his fans. Oikawa had the world in his palm, and in this little kingdom of Kitagawa Daiichi, he was king.

They encounter their first major challenge, Ushijima Wakatoshi, a player from Shiratorizawa Junior High. He’s bigger and stronger, slamming down spikes in a relentless attack and seizing a win before Oikawa can blink. Ushijima was the first taste of what was else was out there, and how Oikawa’s strength fared outside his little kingdom. It made Oikawa painfully aware of his weaknesses, and made him desperate to overcome them.

Then comes the turning point in the form of Kageyama Tobio. Kageyama was a volleyball genius, with natural skills and game sense that rivaled Oikawa’s, and overwhelming potential to be even greater. Over the course of a week, it was Kageyama, instead of Oikawa, who was impressive at volleyball; it was Kageyama who had the favour of the coaches, the admiration of the team, the devotion of the fans—of _his_ fans. Kageyama, the doe-eyed club newbie, unknowingly took everything from Oikawa, and Oikawa could only watch as his world crumbled to ash and slipped through his fingers.

And here, in Kitagawa Daiichi with Kageyama Tobio, this is where it starts.

This is where Oikawa learns bitterness for the first time; where he learns to obsess over controlling everything within his reach—his skills, his team, his opponents’ emotions—thinking if he could hold everything in a vice grip, nothing will slip away from him ever again.

This is where he learns to push himself to the breaking point, and then ten steps further. This is where he learns to hide his weakness behind practiced, overly bright smiles for the admirers; behind cheesy speeches for the team; behind his fake confidence and snide comments and general pettiness; and behind Iwaizumi.

The night Iwaizumi saves him, snaps him out of blindly raging against Kageyama, Oikawa learns he can’t do this alone. So he cries, blood running down his nose and clinging to Iwaizumi’s shirt, begging him never to leave him. And later that night, as they sit in the quiet of Iwaizumi’s kitchen, Iwaizumi grimly presses an icepack to Oikawa’s face and promises to fight next to him.

“You won’t leave me?” Oikawa says tearfully, worrying the hem of Iwaizumi’s shorts.

“I won’t leave you,” Iwaizumi replies, smacking Oikawa’s hands away to keep him from fraying the fabric of his shorts.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa flings his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck.

“Stop calling me that,” He grumbles, but he puts his arm around Oikawa’s waist anyway.

Their junior high run ends with their last fight against Ushijima—against Shiratorizawa, and Iwaizumi finds himself crying alongside Oikawa. Their team had lost the match, but Oikawa ended up receiving the best setter award, so the day was a bittersweet one.

“When we get into high school, that’s when we’ll show Shiratorizawa who’s boss!” Oikawa declares, through the snot and tears, hands clenched into fists and shaking at his sides.

“Naturally,” Iwaizumi barks out, through his own barely-contained blubbering.

Oikawa turns to Kageyama, “Tobio-chan! I don’t know where you’ll be headed after this, but I’m gonna crush you so you better be prepared!”

“Oi. Blow your nose before saying your line,” says Iwaizumi.

“Would you like a tissue?” Kageyama pulls out a small pack of tissue from his pocket and offers it to Oikawa.

“Shut up!” Oikawa snaps, snatching the tissue from Kageyama’s hand.

They left Kitagawa Daiichi together, to start anew in Aoba Johsai High School.

Still, Oikawa couldn’t shake the hurt, so when Kageyama starts on his own downward spiral, Oikawa makes sure to watch from the sidelines. He's smug about it and all around terrible, but this meant he could finally move forward from Kitagawa Daiichi, knowing that Karma had found its way to the boy that stole his kingdom.

The sting of bitterness eased when they entered Aoba Johsai, where everything was right again and he was the shining new star in a new world. He continued his unrelenting chase for victory, training even harder than ever before, making himself better in every way he can.

It gets worse as the years go by; Oikawa’s talent becomes more potent and alongside it develops the self-loathing, growing bigger and curling inward until it’s poisonous barbs dig deep into his heart. He gets better at it, at volleyball and at hiding the ugliness, hiding behind a wall of charm so thick and so dazzling, it becomes the perfect cover.

In their first year, they go up against Shiratorizawa, and they lose—again.

And it hurts.

The hate, the shame, the defeat—a painful burn that rises as a sob in his throat. His heart, hollowed out and crumbling with the weight of his own choking disappointment.

Iwaizumi’s sleeping over the night Oikawa falls apart, suffocating on his own anger so much that he forgets to breathe. When he starts to curl inward and choke on his sobs, Iwaizumi pries him open, large hands wrapping around his wrists and pulling them away from Oikawa’s face and around his waist instead. Oikawa tucks his head under Iwaizumi’s chin and listens to the deep rumble of whispered comfort and the steady beat of Iwaizumi’s heart.

In the morning, Oikawa’s back to being cheerful and annoying—calling him ugly and brutish and mean; poking his cheek and stealing onions from his bento; clinging to his arm and whining about everything. Iwaizumi sees it for what it is: the only way Oikawa knows how to say thank you. So he snaps back, in the way he knows Oikawa finds comfort in. He calls Oikawa stupid and useless, and smacks him when he deserves it—which is always.

At the end of the day is an unspoken apology. Oikawa crawls through his bedroom window, bearing snacks and the latest Godzilla remake. And Iwaizumi makes space for him on his bed, letting Oikawa lean into him and trace all the veins in his arms.

They continue on like that: yelling and hitting during the day, and sneaking into each other’s rooms at night, falling into a pattern and communicating in a way only they can understand. And their teammates are none the wiser.

They’re up against Karasuno _again_ , and Oikawa realizes the win won’t be as easy this time. With a sickening bubble of panic in his gut, Oikawa realizes, belatedly, that the win is impossible.

And then, they lose.

This time, it’s Iwaizumi who cries because _he had it_ and then he didn’t. This win was supposed to be for the team. For Oikawa—for all the late night practices, for all the times Iwaizumi held him in his arms because he couldn’t stop crying, for every single moment Oikawa hated himself for not being enough. This was a win that he wanted to give him, the win he and Oikawa had been chasing after since Kitagawa Daiichi.

After the game, they sit side-by-side at the bus stop. Oikawa tilts his head back to stare at the sky, and Iwaizumi props his elbows up on his knees, chin resting on his hands. For a long while, they just sit quietly, watching the busses and the people pass. When the light fades from the sky, Iwaizumi finally snaps and drags Oikawa on the next bus home.

Oikawa waves Iwaizumi away when he offers to come over, insisting that everything is fine. Once Iwa-chan is safely out of sight, Oikawa goes straight to his room and crumples to the floor. He stares at the ceiling, then takes a deep, shuddering breath, and allows himself to fall apart.

It’s like Kitagawa Daiichi all over again: the terrifying realization that he will never be good enough, the cold dark of the ungodly hour, and the question why? Why, despite all those hours of suffering, why isn’t he better, why is it so fucking hard to _breathe_ and—

Iwa-chan.

He had climbed through the window, pulled Oikawa into his arms and onto his bed, drying the tears and holding him until he calms down.

And there, in the safe embrace of Iwa-chan, he doesn’t hurt as much.

The pain subsides eventually and all Oikawa can think of is how he’s always been bravest by Iwa-chan’s side, capable of being as strong as he wishes to be, capable of being a leader, a fighter—a king. Oikawa’s loved him for so long and every time Iwaizumi is there for him, it feels like he loves him back. So he kisses him that night, turning his head upwards to press a soft kiss onto Iwa-chan’s lips, mouth warm and soft. Iwaizumi stills for a few seconds before he finally curls into Oikawa and presses deeper, parting his lips to lick into Oikawa’s mouth.

The next morning, Iwaizumi wakes up to an empty bed. Oikawa’s gone. He’s not answering texts; he’s not calling back. Iwaizumi shakes his head—among all the things Oikawa could have run away from, he runs from this. He finds Oikawa sulking in the back row of the Sendai City Gym and watching the Shiratorizawa-Karasuno match.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Iwaizumi says, watching in amusement as Oikawa stiffens in surprise. “You said that you weren’t going to come because it would piss you off, no matter who won.”

“No matter which side wins, I’m gonna see the other team’s faces when they lose,” Oikawa says smugly, jamming his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the seat.

“You really are a piece of crap,” Iwaizumi says.

“I don’t have time to sit around and feel sorry for myself,” Oikawa says, lips pressing into a tight line. He keeps his eyes locked on the court and doesn’t say anything else.

“I see that their number ten is moving around a lot, like always,” Iwaizumi observes.

He sits next to Oikawa, and takes his hand, weaving into the spaces between Oikawa’s long fingers, nevermind that Oikawa’s sputtering protests and a few people throw them amused looks.

Oikawa turns a bright red all the way up to his ears, and turns away from Iwaizumi to focus on the game. He comments on Hinata’s monster-like ability as he switches from glaring daggers into the back of Ushijima’s head to glaring daggers into the back of Kageyama’s head. But he doesn’t remove his hand from Iwaizumi’s, and doesn’t complain when Iwaizumi forcefully yanks him close to peck him on the cheek.

“I’m going to win against them one day,” Oikawa swears bitterly as they watch the match together, venomous tone contrasting with the gentle thumb idly tracing circles on the base of Iwaizumi’s thumb. “Both of them.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Iwaizumi says, eyes trailing after the ball when Tsukishima jumps for the block.

“You’ll…you’ll stay and help me, right?” Oikawa asks quietly, turning to Iwaizumi, eyes soft and hopeful.

Iwaizumi grins, squeezing Oikawa’s hand.

“’Til the very end.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm prolly going to delete this after you read it but I'll send you the doc when I do :))


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